Sunday, September 06, 2015

The Quiet Man

Jaundiced in the jason’d
months, adjuncts anent my purpose by a stillness venting,I am the quiet man, unanent,
whom adjacent maths of a me is dementing.A quantum bomb in a different
universe enacts all the options at once,So that I lift keys from the
hook in the hall at the moment that I ensconceThe keys, at the moment I
tickle them whilst they are hanging; or rather, not I,But that me who siphons the
aboutness from me and every other me byBeing zero and one as well as
all other numbers simultaneously.Yet these ciphers in my
adjuncts, like the al-iajaaz of Nizar QabbaniWriting of his homeland, hint
at a grief made ineffable by options vacuum.Jaundiced by course of oral
Nizoral, I am the quiet man, unanent, whomAdjacent maths of a me is
dementing.